


the happiest i ever knew [was in that picture i took with you]

by bettysteddys



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt, Hurt Jughead Jones, Hurt/Comfort, Jughead Jones Loves Betty Cooper, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Missing Persons, POV Jughead Jones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24643765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettysteddys/pseuds/bettysteddys
Summary: Everything was falling into place.  Betty and Jughead were as happy as ever, their dreams finally starting to come true.  She was going to major in criminal justice and become a lawyer for foster children, he was going to major in writing and become a published author.Everything was perfect.Until it wasn’t.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 14
Kudos: 50





	the happiest i ever knew [was in that picture i took with you]

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I know I should be working on my other fics but I started writing this and I just couldn't stop.  
> I don't know if this is a oneshot yet, or if I want to continue it.  
> If I do, it'll be like five chapters max.  
> Let me know what you think!  
> Thank you!
> 
> PSA  
> I didn't have a beta for this chapter because I just really wanted to write it and post it so all mistakes are my own!

Betty Cooper was the brightest star in the dull town of Riverdale. Her beauty unlike any other, her kindness matched by no one. There wasn’t a soul in Riverdale that held any type of animosity towards her.

If she wasn’t tutoring the youth or serving at the local soup kitchen, Betty Cooper could be found rallying behind those from the Southside for better treatment altogether or volunteering at the auto mechanic. She had been asked once why she volunteered most of her time to others, rarely taking a moment to herself.

_ “Have you seen the smile on a little kid's face when they pass a spelling test that they expected to fail? Or the relief in a single mother’s eyes when the only car she owns is fixed in half the time she’d been quoted?” _

Betty Cooper was everything the town of Riverdale needed: Smart, caring, selfless. Her values were reflected in the way she lived her everyday life. Pop had thanked her a thousand times over when she helped reupholster a few of the booths, and FP Jones had said he’d be eternally grateful when she helped fix up a few of the Serpents motorcycles. She never asked for money, never asked for her noble acts to be reimbursed in any way; instead, she was offered a free milkshake every time she entered Pop’s and free soda  _ on the rocks _ at the Whyte Wyrm anytime she found herself on the Southside.

Which happened to be often.

Betty Cooper, despite spending most of her time helping others, had found herself a boyfriend when she was sixteen years old. They had been friends by default, with him being best friends with Archie Andrews who was dating Veronica Lodge, Betty’s best friend, but it wasn’t until she was helping repair a broken pipe under the bar at the Whyte Wyrm that she and Jughead Jones  _ truly _ connected. She had just finished up when he emerged through the front doors, and their eyes connected in a way that Betty could only describe as absolutely monumental. They spent hours talking, connecting, and drinking bottomless Shirley Temples. They talked about books and movies, favorite cars, and even their childhood  —  a topic Betty hadn’t touched on even with Veronica.

Betty decided that night that she could allow herself just a little bit of extra time to herself to spend with Jughead. She allowed that extra time from the end of her sophomore year all the way into late their senior year.

Some called them high school sweethearts, most called them destined.

And even with a long term boyfriend, Betty Cooper spent more time than anyone else would care to, helping others. She took shifts at Pop’s when he was low staffed, helped Mary and Archie Andrews repaint the fence of the Andrews home after Fred had passed away, helped Sierra McCoy organize casework, and even set up sound equipment for Hermione and Hiram Lodge whenever there was a mayoral event. Her time was still evenly split with the Southside, and she found herself tutoring more children at the Andrews Youth Center, getting them ready for the next year of school, and washing graffiti off of homes, parks, and establishments that had been placed, no doubt, by the Ghoulies.

Through all of the things Betty did  —  things that would cause anyone else an immense amount of stress  —  Jughead had seen her cry only twice. Once was when they were watching The Fault in our Stars, and the other was on her father’s birthday.

Jughead had never known much about her father. She rarely brought him up, but he knew that he wasn’t in the picture. Alice Cooper never mentioned him, and even went as far as to shun Betty for bringing him up.

Jughead constantly wondered how her mother could be so cruel to an angel.

He knew that Alice had standards, and he knew that she pushed those standards on Betty.  _ Be nicer, smile bigger, wear more pink, fixing cars isn’t lady-like, get into a good college, keep your hair proper and up  _ —  he especially hated that one, because Betty looked so beautiful with her hair down, the golden waves falling down her shoulders and shaping her face so impeccably. It was when her hair was loose like such that her green eyes glowed emerald.

It was April 13th that she got her acceptance letter to Yale. Jughead got his acceptance to NYU just a couple days later. They celebrated with chaste kisses and cold milkshakes. They took a picture together, holding up their golden tickets in the camera as toothy grins shaped their lips; Betty printed the picture out twice, giving one to Jughead and tacking the other to her wall above her bed, right beside the Yale flag that she’d hung up when she was thirteen. They knew it’d be hard, but they agreed that they would take turns making the hour and a half trek every weekend.

Everything was falling into place. Betty and Jughead were as happy as ever, their dreams finally starting to come true. She was going to major in criminal justice and become a lawyer for foster children, he was going to major in writing and become a published author.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

* * *

The walls were bright. They made his eyes hurt as he slouched against the cold plastic backing of a cheap chair, so he opted to stare at the metal table in front of him instead.

A single piece of paper lay in the center, likely left by mistake. It was upside down to Jughead, but he could make out the date printed in the upper lefthand corner.

_May 30th._

Exactly forty-eight days since his Betty had been accepted into Yale.

Exactly five days since he had seen her face.

Exactly three days since he had heard her voice.

The door to the white room burst open and Sheriff Keller marched in. His eyes were tired, dark circles forming heavily under them. He held a file in his hand and pushed the door shut with his foot before walking to the table and taking a seat directly across from Jughead.

He smiled sympathetically at the raven haired boy. Jughead didn't return the pleasantry.

The file was placed and opened on the desk as Keller's fingers searched the pages. Jughead caught a glimpse of a school photo of Betty from last year, and his chest tightened ever so slightly. She had worn her hair down that time, against her mothers orders, and sprinkled a bit of rosy blush on her already glowing cheeks. Her lashes were coated in mascara, and her lips painted a glossy pink. Her eyes, though, stood out the most. Maybe it was the light purple background, or the deep navy blouse she wore, but her eyes popped more that day than they normally did, and Jughead felt just as drawn to them in that moment as he did on picture day.

"How are you, Jughead?"

The Sheriff's voice cut through his thoughts like a dull knife and Jughead's glance shot up to meet his eyes. Green, but nothing like Betty's.

Her eyes were unparalleled.

Jughead scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm _great_." He answered sarcastically.

Tom Keller nodded slowly and sighed. "I know this isn't easy for you to talk about, but you need to give us something."

"I already did."

"You said you spoke to her on the phone. When was that?"

"Wednesday, just like I told you earlier." Jughead's voice was low and coarse. He hadn't slept the previous night, and the exhaustion weighed heavily on him.

"What did you talk about?"

_"Guess what, Jug?"_

_Her voice was quiet, and he knew it was because it was late and Alice Cooper would have an absolute fit if she found them talking on the phone this far into the night. Still, he yearned to hear her larger than life laughs and pouty huffs when she didn't get her way. He loved the sounds she made, the way she expressed herself and told her story through tone and harmony. "What is it?"_

_"Remember how I told you about that kid, Nathaniel, that might have to repeat seventh grade because he was behind in algebra?"_

_Jughead recalled the memory of that talk. He didn't know Nathaniel, but he knew the kid hated math passionately_ _ — much like Jughead — and had no interest in passing. Anyone else would have given up on him months ago. Hell, Jughead would have given up the moment the kid had an attitude. Betty wasn't anyone, though. She persisted, always. "I do." _

_ "He passed Algebra with a B minus!" Betty squealed quietly into the phone and Jughead couldn't help but chuckle at the sound. She was absolutely ecstatic; it was contagious. "I'm so proud of him, Jughead. He climbed so many mountains on this path, and now he's moving on to the eighth grade with the rest of his friends." _

_ "You really are a miracle worker, aren't you Betts?" Jughead smiled against his phone. _

_ The phone line fell silent for a moment, but it often did when they spoke this late at night. He was no stranger to Betty falling asleep on the phone with him, and he half expected to hear her quiet snores within the next few moments. _

_ Instead, her voice broke through the silence, laced with melancholy. "Juggie?" _

_ Jughead stretched in his bed and turned towards his window, having nearly fallen asleep himself. "Yes, baby?" _

_ "I love you." _

_ "I love you too." Jughead spoke. And then: "Forever." _

_ "Forever." She repeated. "Do you promise?" _

_ Jughead furrowed his brows a bit, having assumed that Betty knew how much he loved her. He loved her so much it hurt. _

_ "Betty Cooper." He finally said. "I promise on everything I am, on everything I've ever written and ever will write, that I will love you for the rest of my life." _

_ A content sigh escaped her lips and he could practically hear her nodding through the phone. "Good night, Juggie." _

"We talked about a kid she tutored, and then we fell asleep on the phone together. Just like we do almost every night."

Tom nodded and peered at a page in front of him, loaded with handwritten notes that could only be described as chicken scratch. "You didn't hear anything suspicious that night?"

Jughead sighed and shook his head. "I was asleep. I woke up and the call had ended a couple hours earlier, but that's normal. She always forgets to plug her phone in at night, so it dies."

"You're close with Archie Andrews, right?" The sheriff met his gaze again. "Betty's neighbor?"

"He's my best friend."

"Andrews claims that he didn't see Betty leave her house on Thursday."

"I'm aware. He called me to ask if Betty had stayed over, or if we grabbed breakfast."

"Did that alarm you at all?"

"Not really, no. It's common for Betty to press snooze a few times. For a girl who loves to keep busy, she values her sleep a lot."

Sheriff Keller cracked a smile at this, but Jughead simply rolled his eyes.

"When did you start to feel like something was off?" He finally asked.

Jughead's eyes dropped to the file again, and he stared at it for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was weaker than before, thick with the tears that made their bed just inside his tear ducts. "She texts me every morning. Every single morning, I get a _good morning_ text, even if it's late or she overslept. We don't have any classes together before lunch, so when I still hadn't gotten a text by then, I started to worry. I called her number, and it went straight to voicemail."

"Did you ask anyone about it?"

"Of course I did." Jughead shot back. "I went straight to Veronica and asked if she'd seen her."

"What did Veronica say?"

"She said that Betty hadn't shown up to their pre-calc class, and had missed the Sober Grad party planning meeting during free period."

"What happened next, Jughead?"

"We thought that maybe she had come down with something, so Archie gave us a ride to her house. Alice was there."

Keller stayed quiet, allowing Jughead to continue. "We asked if Betty was okay, which made Alice panic because she had been under the impression that Betty was at school. Veronica checked her bedroom and had been met with a broken mirror, and Archie even went down to the basement because Betty used to runaway there when we were little, if her mom was being extra horrendous."

"What did you do?"

Jughead slumped his shoulders and sighed. "I stood at the front door and silently pleaded for her to be okay." His eyes found Sheriff Keller's, and the tears he had been holding back for multiple days now finally overflowed. Through a heavy sob, he finally said the words he'd been dying to say. "Please tell me she's okay."

* * *

After two months of searching, Betty Cooper was presumed dead.

The evidence was there, they told him.

The lock on her window had been broken from the outside, her vanity mirror had been shattered, and her cell phone was found broken under her bed.

There was no DNA evidence, no detected foul play, no witness, and no reasonable suspect _—_ and yet, they had presumed she was dead.

They had presumed his Betty Cooper _dead_.

Jughead didn't believe it for a minute. He cursed at Sheriff Keller for hours, he called the entire police station lazy fucking scum. He told them to burn in hell and he said the same to Archie and Veronica when they tried to comfort him, when they tried to tell him it was okay for him to grieve over his _dead_ girlfriend.

Except she _wasn't_ dead. Jughead could feel it in the very core of his body. His Betty was out there, somewhere.

She had to be.

He needed her to be.

* * *

Her funeral was held on August third, just a couple days before Jughead was set to move to New York.

They should have been together that day, packing the last of their belongings for college and printing their schedules for the other to have. They should have been going out to Pop's that night for one last hurrah with their friends, before their lives became a dizzying mess of studying, essays, and homework.

Instead, Jughead found himself seated in a back pew of a church Betty had helped fundraise for countless times, listening to stories he _already knew_.

Alice Cooper had always been a spitfire, but he could see her in the front row and he'd never seen her look so frail _—_ like she would break at the next hug. Her entire body rocked as she sobbed into a cotton tissue. Veronica sat near her, and reached out to rub her back comfortingly.

Polly Cooper, Betty's older sister, stood in front of the crowd, tears trailing down her cheeks as she tried to tell a story of a nightlight. Jughead's eyes scanned the crowd of people, unsurprised by how many people had showed up.

Cheryl Blossom and Toni Topaz sat a few pews down. Cheryl was dressed in all black, a stark difference from her typical red attire, and Toni was draped in her Serpent jacket. Sweet Pea and Fangs, two of Jughead's friends who had quickly befriended Betty as well, sat beside them. All of their heads hung low.

Archie sat beside Veronica, and directly behind them was Kevin Keller and his father, the sheriff. Sierra McCoy sat beside Tom, and her daughter Josie held Kevin's hand tightly as they cried together. Pop Tate was in the same row as the Kellers and McCoy's, and the row behind him held Hiram Lodge, Hermione Lodge, Mary Andrews, and Penelope Blossom. Reggie Mantle and the rest of the Bulldogs took up the next row, and behind them were a group of girls Jughead recognized as the Vixens. Even a few Riverdale High staff were scattered throughout, most notably Miss Burble, the school counselor that Betty had only ever met for help with her application to Yale.

Tears filled the eyes of everyone in the room. They had all loved Betty.

Jughead didn't understand how the police could believe someone had wanted to _hurt her_.

Betty was a shining star in an otherwise dark world. No one in this room, let alone the town of Riverdale, was capable of hurting her.

Nothing seemed right.

* * *

Jughead and his father were invited to the Cooper home for a small get together after the funeral. It was meant to be a time for Betty's friends to share their stories and grieve together, and Jughead had been reluctant to attend. He hadn't spoken to Archie and Veronica since he'd blown up at them, and he rarely interacted with the Serpents. The rest of them were his friends simply by default. Without Betty, they probably wouldn't bother to look his way.

Still, his father forced him to go. He told him it would be good for him. Told him that he needed to grieve.

Jughead didn't know why everyone thought he needed to grieve. He knew his girlfriend was alive. He just _knew_.

The get together was busier than he'd expected. The newest graduating class of Riverdale High gathered in the living room to swap memories. Veronica cried when Archie mentioned their trip to Sweetwater Swimming Hole. Jughead remembered the trip fondly. It was labor day weekend, and they'd taken Archie's old Jalopy out for the day. He remembered the way Betty's wet hair clung to her skin as she wrapped her legs around him and forced him to carry her through the water. They camped that night, and he could still recall the lingering scent of her vanilla shampoo as they made love under the stars, their friends far enough into the woods that they wouldn't hear the quiet moans that escaped Betty's lips, or the low sighs Jughead would pant as he brought the love of his life to release.

Kevin talked about the musicals they'd done; how Betty had made the _perfect_ Sue in Carrie because her heart matched the role, and how he'd never forgiven himself for making her play the least loved Heather in their production of Heathers: The Musical. Toni made a joke about the time she'd walked in on Jughead and Betty in the Blue and Gold, and Cheryl wailed as she recalled the time she'd found Betty throwing up in the school bathroom. No one but Jughead had known it was a pregnancy scare. No one had known the talk that had followed. The _what if's_ and _how would we handle it's_.

More recollections were to come, but Jughead felt overwhelmed. They were talking about her like she was gone forever, like they'd only ever see her in photographs for the rest of their lives.

Jughead rose from the couch he'd been sitting on and excused himself. He could feel their eyes as he trailed up the stairs, and when he was finally out of their sight, he let out a long sigh and ran his hand down his face. He turned in the hallway to stare at the tall white door that he had come to know as Betty's. He'd been in her room many times before, most of them going unnoticed by Alice Cooper.

He wanted to reach out and turn the handle, emerge himself in a sea of pastel pink walls and tangerine pillows _—_ but the last he heard, her bedroom was still considered a crime scene.

As if she had read his mind, Alice's fragile voice appeared behind him. "When they presumed her to be dead, it technically lifted the restrictions of her bedroom being a crime scene."

She sniffled quietly and stepped into his peripheral vision. "I-I haven't been able to go in yet. I keep trying to talk myself up to it, but then I get to the door and it feels like too much."

Jughead had only ever known Alice Cooper as strong. This broken, powerless Alice made his heart ache. She had never been the nicest to Betty, but Betty had loved her nonetheless. Maybe Betty saw more than the armor that Alice seemed to wear daily. Maybe she saw this Alice.

"I should have checked her bedroom before I left for work." She admitted almost silently. "I always do, but I was running behind that morning and told myself she was a big girl, she didn't need her mommy to wake her up."

"You couldn't have known." Jughead finally said, his eyes soft as they stared at the pale skin that had the place of a once flowing, fierce face.

"I appreciate it, Jughead." Alice gazed at the door, her shoulders slumping slightly. She was still dressed in a dark purple blouse and black slacks, a pair that could definitely be ruled as a power outfit, but she'd never looked weaker. "She loved you so much."

The tears Jughead hadn't felt through the entire funeral finally found their way to him. He choked down a sob and nodded slowly. "I love her too."

"I know." Alice nodded towards the door, and Jughead reached his hand out, gripping the handle tightly. He turned it slowly and pushed the door open.

He expected to be washed over with a sense of familiarity. Instead, grief crashed into him and he had to hold the handle even tighter to keep himself from falling over.

He hadn't been in her bedroom in months. He'd spent their last night together in there as she made notes in the latest edition to his novel. She'd highlighted and circled and color coded everything that needed to be revised in the story of the boy in the river, but he'd interrupted her half way through when he decided that he could no longer keep his hands off of her.

He gazed at her desk. The cork board above it still held a photo of the two of them at their first dance together, and a photo of her with Veronica after their first show during Carrie. Laying neatly in the center of the desk was the thick white pages of the novel. He hadn't dared touch the draft on his laptop since Betty had first gone missing. The novel had always been their thing. He would write a chapter, and she would revise it, make it better. He had no plans to continue writing it without her.

Still, he found himself walking towards the desk and picking the novel up, eager to see the corrections she had made on that chapter.

He skipped through the pages until he landed on the last chapter he'd written. Chapter twenty seven.

The chapter number, title-less, was circled in blue pen. He typically came up with chapter titles after he'd written the chapter, and while he couldn't remember a time she'd ever used blue pen to revise his work, this was likely the reminder to do so.

He read through the chapter. Errors were circled and underlined in red, and parts that made little or no sense were highlighted in yellow. He found the words New York City underlined in blue a few pages in. The sentence had read:

_ The New York City Police Department did little to aid the small town, despite them having the largest missing persons task force for hundreds of _ miles.

He couldn't place his finger on what was grammatically incorrect. Maybe she was telling him that the fact was incorrect. He'd have to google that later, even if he had no interest in continuing the story.

He shrugged and continued to scan the work. A few pages later, the blue ink was spotted again. This time, it circled the words _I had to do it_ in a eulogy being given at a town-wide event. This time, he really couldn't see what was wrong. Were the words too boring? Did they lack characteristic? Or were they simply not needed?

It wasn't until he reached the last page of the chapter, where a grieving sister was crying during the funeral of her brother, that things started to click.

_ "I never imagined a world without my brother. He was my other half, my best friend, my sidekick. He understood me more than anyone could ever try. He taught me how to ride a bike, and he wiped my tears the first time I cried over a boy. There is so much pain in losing him, in losing my brother... but there is comfort too, because I know in my heart that we will meet again." _

He knew that there was nothing wrong with this paragraph. It was free of red marks and highlighter streaks. In fact, the entire last page was. But the bright blue ink had shown itself on this page, underlining nothing more than the words _we will meet again_.

He flipped back a few pages to be sure he'd read it correctly. She had only marked four things with blue. The words _New York City_ , _I had to do it_ , and _we will meet again_ ; and then, the chapter title.

Jughead stared at the chapter title for a long time, that one confusing him the most.

And then it hit him.

The last time they had spoken was on May 27th.

She had circled Chapter 27.

She underlined "New York City".

She circled "I had to do it".

She marked "we will meet again".

Jughead swung around, his eyes searching the wall above her bed. The same posters remained, and a quaint Yale flag was still tacked over a flyer of a book signing she'd attended... but one thing was missing from her wall.

The picture of Jughead and her, with their acceptance letters.

The picture she had tacked right beside the flag.

It was no where to be found.

Jughead's gaze shifted erratically from the wall to the novel, the gears spinning in his head as he thought through every possible situation where this would make him crazy. Most of them did.

But he knew. He _knew_.

His Betty had left him a message.

His Betty was still alive.


End file.
